


Hopeless

by writinggeek73



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Mental Health Issues, Poetry, Sad, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinggeek73/pseuds/writinggeek73
Summary: Just how does it feel to be hopelessly in love with your best friend?
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Here is my attempt at poetry. I thought Betty would be a nice character to write some for, considering how many secrets she keeps. Part of this is my own personal experiences, so it was fairly simple to write. Oh, the struggles of love.

Just how does it feel when you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend?

  
When the realization hits you, it’s like you’ve been relieved of the weights chained to your heart. 

  
You start thinking, _how do I know, though_?

  
You start thinking about all of those little moments; when she asks to listen to your music through your earbud.

  
When you and her always turn to each other for partner work, and it’s a mutual feeling of trust.

  
When she genuinely wants to sit next to you, not feeling bored by your presence.

  
When you get closer, video calling for hours at a time, just enjoying each others’ company.

  
And when she calls you her best friend. That’s a feeling that cannot be replicated.

  
A warm sensation goes through you, as you start giddily smiling. 

  
_I'm her best friend_ , you think, a feeling of great accomplishment washing over you.

  
Then you realize, it wouldn’t make you feel the same way if one of your other friends said it.

  
Sure, you’d feel happy at the thought of someone else wanting to be your best friend, but you wouldn’t get that same feeling of euphoria that you got from her.

  
When you’re scrolling through Instagram, and you stumble upon one of her posts. She looks beautiful, elegant, graceful. Dozens of synonyms of those words fly through your head, as you rush to like the photo.

  
You comment something, something to let her know just how beautiful she is. Then you doubt yourself.

  
 _Was that weird_?

  
 _Is she going to catch on_?

 _That was way too sexual_.

  
You worry and worry over it, until she replies with a few heart emojis, signifying that all is okay.

  
You sigh, relieved, as you go to her account and scroll through her older posts. You notice that she deleted her two most recent posts. Puzzled, you go to the others, which have already been liked and commented on meticulously by you. Why would anyone that gorgeous delete any picture of them?

  
You check the number of comments. 147.

  
 _147_. 

  
147 people commented on how beautiful she is. You don’t account for the fact that she replies to almost all of them, but that’s beyond you.

  
You lay there, stars in your eyes, as you imagine what it would feel like to be closer to her.

  
Eventually, you brush it off, knowing that she’ll never feel those feelings for you as you do for her.

  
You continue on, listening to all of her boy struggles, how she doesn’t know if she wants a relationship of not, desperately wanting to tell her that you’d be happy with her, and that that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

  
You also have your own struggles, with anxiety, PTSD and ADHD. You’ve never told anyone about what happens at your house. How your heart starts to beat a little faster when you hear a loud noise, or when one of your parents gets angry.

  
You crave someone to listen to you, to understand your need for support. 

  
You want that someone to be her.

  
But it can’t be.

  
Her heart is too pure for that. She would go to CAS so fast you couldn’t blink. She’d want to help you and so would everyone else. But that could never happen.

  
Your mom would be so angry at you, she’d hate you. And you couldn’t bare that.

  
So, you keep quiet, about everything. Digging your nails in your palms when you get overwhelmed, as you wrestle with the fact that this is how it had to be. That it would never change.

  
That, was how Betty felt for Veronica. 

  
Hopeless.


End file.
